Even in Death
by WinchesterFan
Summary: Buffy AU Season 2, following the events of ‘Passion.’ Buffy must kill Angelus…or does she have a little deathwish of her own?


**Even in Death**

_Buffy AU Season 2, following the events of 'Passion.' Buffy must kill Angelus…or does she have a little death-wish of her own?_

She had patrolled almost every night for a week now and the cemetery still showed no sign of vamp activity. The endless hours of hunting were starting to bite back with a vengeance, affecting the Slayer's already frayed state of mind. These days, her muscles were forever tensed, primed for the fight that she dreaded and craved with equal fervour. The once vulnerable bloom of her lips were now set in a grim, resolute line while her eyes were constantly shifting, betraying the agitation that lurked beneath her steely exterior.

These days, Buffy had trouble keeping down even the smallest scraps of meals, to the growing despair of her mother. Joyce thought that she was still worried about her fixated ex – like all teenage dramas, it was so much worse than a parent initially believed.

Buffy had even withdrawn from her beloved Scoobies, sick with shame at dragging them into the mess that was her current love life. She now truly understood why the Slayer was destined to suffer, to die alone. This time, however, she would face a fate far worse than death: killing her first and only love.

He wouldn't meet her in the cemetery, she knew that now. It would be somewhere personal, a place where they had shared one of their dark and tender token moments.

The one place where she had finally accepted Angel for the monster that he truly was.

Her hand was clenched so firmly around the stake that she could feel splinters embed themselves into her palm. The sharp pain was a wild kind of relief and Buffy deliberately gripped the stake harder, knowing that Angelus would scent her blood.

The ice rink gradually came into view and, once again, Buffy lost another piece of her soul just from remembering Angel and how he once was…

"_You shouldn't have to touch me when I'm like this."_

_She gazed up into his face, which was distorted by his demonic features. Under the eerie wash of the moonlight, he had never appeared more dangerous, or more beautiful. _

"_Oh," she breathed. Without even hesitating, she removed her glove and stroked his cheek, fingers lingering upon the ridges of his face. "I didn't even notice."_

_She sensed his shocked disbelief at her touch, then he was kissing her – she felt his fangs scrape her bottom lip, drawing blood and all she longed to do was pull him even closer. What was a little blood between lovers, after all?_

Buffy walked along the pathway that bordered the ice-rink. Even now, armed with the knowledge that she had to kill him, she still would have traded her soul for just one more night with her doomed demon lover.

She stopped at the end of the path, staring out across the ice. Before, with Angel, the ice had possessed a luminous glow, resembling the ideal romantic backdrop for a pair of star-crossed lovers. Now it had transformed into a cold and almost menacing landscape that seemed to mock her past fantasies of true love.

She wondered darkly how her blood would look streaked out across the ice; if it would leave a permanent stain or be gradually erased by time, forgotten.

She could feel him behind her, watching, waiting. The ice refused to betray his reflection or even the barest hint of his presence, but she could have sensed him even if she was blind. She had once accepted his demon quirks without a second's hesitation, never dreaming how deadly they could be when used against her. She had even accepted the most twisted depths of his crucified soul. In her innocence, she could have handled any horrific truth from his blood-soaked past…

"_Do you love me?"_

"_What?"_

"_Do you?"_

_She hesitated. "I love you. I don't know if I trust you."_

_His reply had been brutal. "Maybe you shouldn't do either."_

Words of advice she had taken far too late. She had listened with numb horror as he had described, in agonising detail, how he had tormented Drusilla, his pet 'obsession.' Now he had a new fixation and Buffy knew, deep down, that it wouldn't take long for her to shatter as well.

_I'm sorry I couldn't kill him for you... for her... when I had the chance. I wasn't ready. _She turned to face him, keeping the stake at her side. For now.

_But I think I finally am._

His gaze still held Angel's old intensity and she lost another piece of her soul, as she always did when she faced him, primed to kill. The differences between Angel and his demonic counterpart were subtle and therefore all the more devastating. His stance was more relaxed, making him seem all the more terrifying, while the cold, remorseless sheen of his eyes revealed the soulless demon of the man he'd once been.

Angelus rarely showed his vamp face, preferring to unnerve her with the face of her former lover. So far, this little trick had stayed her staking hand each time.

With the smooth, soundless grace of a bloodless killer, he stepped towards her slowly, daring her to retreat. She stayed her ground, as they both knew she would, her body subtly tensing in anticipation. He observed her for a moment, a cold, cruel smile playing over his lips.

"I'll make it good for you Slayer," he promised her softly. "I'll make you want it, even as I rip your throat out."

She swallowed, fighting back the intense fear that threatened to swallow her whole. What he had done to Ms Calendar could almost be considered merciful; she, on the other hand, would be forced to endure the life being torn from her body with excruciating slowness.

Like hell she would.

Buffy's arm moved in a blur, the stake missing by inches as Angelus effortlessly avoided the blow. Then they were fighting, their blows brutal enough to bruise, sprain and draw blood; but Angelus was slightly more willing to injure, more willing to destroy. His backhand had enough force to send her to her knees and while she was still reeling, he seized her wrist and gave it a violent wrench, sending her stake clattering onto the path. A second later she was in his arms, her back pressed against his broad, unbeating chest, beaten and helpless.

Just as he liked her.

Angelus's face had morphed and she let out a sobbing moan as his fangs scraped over her exposed, vulnerable neck with taunting slowness. It was over. She had fought, she had lost, just as a small, sick part of her had always hoped she would. It was only in death that she would ever be reunited with him, the one thing that she craved more than life itself. She tilted her head back, arching her throat for him.

"Take it all." Her voice was broken.

Angelus chuckled. "So our stalwart heroine has a death wish after all."

His lips brushed her skin. "What makes you think you can escape me, even in death?"

His hand trailed down her body, which arched under the caress even while her mind screamed out in silent horror.

The worst thing was, it wasn't the first time that Angelus had ever touched her that way. She had never told anyone, not even Willow, too sick with shame and self-hatred at what she had done. That her one forbidden night with Angel had continued into the early hours of the morning with Angelus. He had retuned to the bed, skin slick with rain-water, the strangest expression on his face as he gazed down at her in the darkness. Instinctively, she had pulled him down to her, twining her arms around him to let him take her again. He was rougher the second time, but as usual, the searing pleasure had diminished the pain. Once she had gazed up at him to find him in vamp face, eyes gleaming a feral yellow, fangs bared in savage pleasure - instead of withdrawing in fear she had pulled him closer, her beautiful, lost, fallen Angel.

Learning that it had been Angelus has sent her spiralling into a mindless horror that would never, for as long as she lived, ever truly go away.

She closed her eyes, braced to endure further pain. If she died, then her friends would live. It was only her that Angelus wanted to tear apart and that small twisted part of her wanted him to, wanted him to mercifully end it all.

"Poor little lost girl," he breathed into her ear. "I'll make it all go away."

He bit and Buffy's body jerked in shock as he tore into her throat, drinking deeply. Despite the viciousness of his feeding, he held her with the tenderness of a lover, stroking the bare skin of her arm. She felt everything: her life, her soul, her last hope all drain away, leaving her wonderfully empty. She would never have to feel again…

Then his wrist was at her lips, dripping blood and he was forcing her to drink, to taste her darkest fears, until death appeared to claim her at last.

She was buried in a place where her friends would never think to look, on the edge of the ice-rink, the site of her death. The place where a young girl had once skated across the blood-stained ice, defying even her Calling to be with a vampire destined to become her immortal nemesis. The same place where a second Slayer had looked on in horror as the girl caressed her vampire lover, who drew her unwittingly deeper into the shadows.

She rose the following night, eerily beautiful even from the grave. He was waiting for her and she joined him under the unnaturally pale wash of the moonlight. Her fangs gleamed as she smiled. Now she was finally his and nothing, not even death, would keep them apart ever again.

Angelus's mouth curved into an evil grin as he anticipated the new world that he would show her, the sweet perversities that he would teach her. But there was really no need to rush.

At that moment, they literally had all the time in the world.


End file.
